Daughter of Ninfadea
by Dawrnit
Summary: Prophecies are often misinterpreted, people are often misjudged, and truth is relative. Hermione Granger finds the truth to all magical ancestry as she is entangled in a love that transcends time.


Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter as much as I own the Royal Family.

**Daughter of Ninfadea: Prologue**

Prophecies are of a very fickle nature. For the purposes of explanation, they will be likened to water. As water constantly flows with time, so do prophecies; there has never been an extended period of time where a prophecy was not born. Valleys have been carved from mountains from the constant pressure of a trail of water; lives have been based upon the insistence of a prophecy. Life forms can be founded within water just as easily as it may destroy. Prophecies have served as the basis of crusades and revolutions, movements and hope. They may even intertwine as do the rivers, streams, and seas, depending on one another to fulfil a whole, or negating the interpretation of another. People are supposedly aware of water and its properties—two hydrogen molecules and one oxygen—just as they are sure that prophecies are foretelling of the future to come; and most are quite certain that all that is to be discovered about both has been revealed.

However, what few realise is that prophecies can be easily misinterpreted; while some are straightforward and blunt in nature, others may be riddled with logic and symbolism. It is due to these differences that the message a prophecy delivers becomes skewed through personal interpretation.

To find some of the few that are aware of the danger of placing incorrect meaning upon prophecies, one should travel to central London. Inside the Ministry of Magic, manoeuvring about the Department of Mysteries—specifically the shelves of the Hall of Prophecy—are the Unspeakables holding guardianship and researching over the vast collection of prophecies. A break from the usual presiding, their current task was to update the Ministry log of prophecies due to the Battle of the Department of Mysteries that had taken place only a month back.

Annette Christensen scratched at her chin while she continuously checked back and forth between her clipboard and the prophecies lining the shelf before her, every so often pausing to cross out a line or scribble a note. Though the shelves were still laden with prophecy upon prophecy, there were a noticeable amount missing, damaged from the actions of the Battle's participants. Annette's lips would tighten into a taut line when her mind would wonder to such thoughts, her fingers sadly trailing the deep scratches upon the shelves or the empty spots of lost prophecies. Checking for all the missing prophecies was quite a mind-numbing task, but she steadily continued on, humming nonsensically to break the gloomy silence.

Three aisles and seventeen columns away, on the eleventh row, a prophecy began to softly glow.

* * *

Delicate silver instruments whirred and emitted small puffs of smoke, men and women in portraits conversed and a newly acquired Phoenix sat proudly atop his perch. In this room full of wonderful and intriguing items sat a wonderful and intriguing person as well; Albus Dumbledore gazed solemnly out the headmaster's office and watched the furthering figure of his good friend and recently released employee Cassandra Vablatsky.

Fawkes approached Dumbledore and nudged his arm with his beak in a sign of support.

Albus sighed, "There is never a winner in unrequited love."

Though Cassandra was a good friend and respected colleague of his, Dumbledore simply did not return the Divination professor's affections. He was simply asexual, apathetic to interaction on a romantic or sexual level. She had revealed to him that her decision to leave was based upon the emotional torture she found from being around a man who could never return her sentiments; and though he was saddened to watch her leave, he could sympathise. He mentally halted himself before he began to reminisce of his time with Grindelwald.

Professor Vablatsky had been excellent during her tenure as Hogwarts' divination professor and Dumbledore had found himself as the receiver of numerous true prophecies she had delivered. The most vivid of them—of course he recalled all, but one stood out in particular—was in regards to a child that could potentially hold more power than the Dark Lord. While the child was of interest, it was the mention of someone known only as the "Dark Lord" that begged his attention. It had been nineteen years since he had bested his former friend and there had been no new threat as of yet.

* * *

It had been a rather unremarkable day, at least by Hogwarts' standards: no Quidditch games, no duels had broken out, no students had been sent to his office. For a castle filled with magical beings, Albus Dumbledore found the day markedly unremarkable. Of course, for every thought that one was sure of, something had to happen to ensure the opposite.

Slytherin third-year and newly appointed Quidditch captain, Stuart Craggy quickly approached him, "Professor Dumbledore, Professor Vablatsky's feinted and we haven't been able to wake her up!"

Knowing that Professor Vablatsky was in no immediate danger, he calmed the boy and took quick strides towards the North Tower where the Divinations classroom was held. Though there was no immediate danger, the headmaster knew that it would be in the student's best interests that her latest prophecy be heard by him alone.

As they reached the classroom, he approached her still body that the students had seen to lay across a couch. It wasn't much of a surprise that the students showed concern; Vablatsky was kind to all students while making her classes interesting through abstract teaching methods. The Gryffindors were huddled towards the right of the unconscious professor while the Slytherins stood to the left. Her body seemed as a great dividing force between the two, yet she magnetized them all towards her.

Non-verbally levitating her out, he released the students from that class and led her immobile body to the Hospital wing. Before he could reach his destination though, her eyes shot open and she broke his spell, standing on her own feet. Her eyes held that familiar Seer glaze and words began to dance out of her mouth:

"If hope is waning and all are weary  
Riddle lurking behind every nook  
Child of knowledge and mind of theory  
The lioness from where truth was took  
Of family of water  
Of European descent  
No sisters or brothers  
Secretly heaven sent  
Power to be more than equal the Dark Lord  
Descended from the purest and true  
Yet only when appears the truthful words  
And her past is knew"

* * *

He rubbed his eyes behind his half-moon spectacles as recalled the last prophecy that Cassandra Vablatsky had delivered to him. Only four months ago had she revealed that information, and now Dumbledore could only watch as she left. Her figure disappeared completely from sight and he could hear the faint telling crack of apparation.

**A/N**: Well, this is a new story I'm beginning. Hopefully I'll be able to finish one finally! Review, review, review!


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